Kafka Page #5

Anna smiles. She's interested in Kafka. (Which means we

must see this warm attractive girl as a threat, a curse, a

trap!)

GABRIELA:

--On the other hand, is an enticement. Kafka can't help

walking towards her. Sitting with her own friends, though

there is something less than friendly about them. Two men,

two women.

GABRIELA:

(as Kafka comes over)

Hello again.

KAFKA:

I've never seen you here before.

GABRIELA:

Have you looked?

Kafka feels as awkward as she knows he feels. He looks to

her friends, expecting an introduction, but no one makes a

move.

KAFKA:

Well -- nice to know life exists

outside the office.

GABRIELA:

(ironic)

Yes.

Kafka nods goodbye and walks away, berating himself for

banality.

CUT:

OUTSIDE - NIGHT

Kafka resists going along with the others.

KAFKA:

No, really, I have to go home too.

MARGARETE:

We're keeping him from his true

vocation.

JULIUS:

I know, he consists of writing.

We wouldn't be his friends if we

didn't threaten his solitude!

Julius is a little drunk. The others help him with his coat.

ANNA:

Has a private moment with Kafka.

ANNA:

Where do you live?

KAFKA:

Up there.

He gestures in the direction of the River, and the castle

that looms on a far hill beyond, huge and brooding, regally

dominating the city.

ANNA:

I tried finding a place on Castle

Hill when I arrived. I wanted to

share the majesty.

(The majesty of marriage is what he fears she represents.

This innocent scene could very well be a subjective

Kafkaesque nightmare as sinister in its own way as any of the

more outright horrific scenes to come.)

KAFKA:

It's only majestic from here.

When you get closer you see it

for what it really is.

ANNA:

What is it really?

KAFKA:

A glorified office block. They

keep all the old records there --

the final resting place for facts

and figures that have ceased to

matter in the world of the living.

ANNA:

Well, as long as I admire it from

afar it shouldn't worry me if it's

hollow.

(The castle of marriage tempts him -- but would suffocate

him.)

KAFKA:

It's more than hollow. It's

stillborn. For all its size it

serves no purpose. It's just

there -- like death -- hovering

over a breathing city.

THE OTHERS:

Turn back into the picture. Margarete pats Kafka

sympathetically.

MARGARETE:

Don't worry about your friend --

I'm sure he'll turn up.

ERNST:

(a parting word)

What are you working on, Kafka?

KAFKA:

I'm writing a story about a man

who wakes up one morning to find

himself transformed into a giant

insect.

His friends glance at each other surreptitiously and don't

know what to say -- other than goodnight

KAFKA:

Turns to go -- when he notices Bizzlebek leaning listlessly

in the coffee house doorway. A figure in the shadows.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes